by Robyn Carr
“That would explain my mother’s behavior,” she said.
“And your uncle’s, to some degree.”
“But…how did you know there was something…?” She couldn’t say it. In case any part of her night was still a secret, she wouldn’t go out of her way to reveal it.
“Well, either you’ve been snowmobiling or you have yourself a little whisker burn there.” Mel raised her eyebrows, giving Angie a pointed look.
Angie’s hands went to her cheeks before she could stop herself. She laughed. Okay—no secrets. Except the details. Delicious, wonderful, mind-blowing details.
* * *
Patrick knew that comparing the women he’d had intimate experiences with, even when done secretly, was not gentlemanly. And Patrick was, if nothing else, a gentleman. However…
His relationship with Leigh had been satisfying in its own way. It must have been—he had never strayed. But even in the beginning he wondered what more he could do to satisfy her, to arouse her, to really make things exciting between them. It always seemed as though she had little interest in sex—in any sort of intimacy, now that he thought about it. There were times, of course, when this was understandable—sometimes they fell into bed tired after working long hours. After a couple of years, he reasoned that they’d drifted into a certain complacency because they were so comfortable; they’d just grown so accustomed to each other. Perhaps they took each other for granted. But there were other times when it chafed—like when he returned from deployments. He had missed her while he was away; he hungered for an obvious sign she had longed for him, too. He would have welcomed some wild lust. Some hot, crazy, sweaty, button-popping, fabric-ripping sex. Hell, he’d have been happy with a really good kiss. Anything to show him that his absence had affected her.
But Leigh wasn’t made that way. She was emotionally reserved and even more so when it came to sex. The woman was so damned beautiful and socially vivacious, it felt as though she should be an erotic dream come true, yet she was always so busy perfecting her social image that there was hardly any time left to spend with Patrick. She assured him he was a wonderful lover and that she desired him more than anyone else. And she said she loved him. He bought it, too. Until she left him and never looked back.
Angie, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to get enough of him during their night together. She was Leigh’s polar opposite in bed—and Patrick loved it.
Patrick drove all the way to Fortuna for breakfast. Under the circumstances, he didn’t think he could hold a conversation with Jack. And Jack liked to talk. Chances were good if Jack looked deeply into Patrick’s green eyes he would see images of his niece burned into the irises. Patrick’s palms still tingled from where he’d touched her.
He made a run to the grocery store. He was a passably good cook, but he didn’t want to spend a lot of time cooking or cleaning up that evening, and he wasn’t sure what Angie liked to eat, so he played it safe—chicken stir-fry, brown rice, wine. A little cheesecake in case she had a sweet tooth.
Once that was finished, groceries safe in the car in cold weather, he drove out to Jilly Farms to visit with Colin. As luck would have it, Luke was there. Colin, who had a titanium rod in one femur, was holding the ladder steady while Luke used a staple gun to affix multicolored lights to the eaves. This was a brilliant stroke of luck and Patrick had a strategy here—if he spent a little time with them, declined any offers of dinner, his evening would be his own. And he had plans for the evening.
“Great timing, Paddy,” Luke yelled from the top of the ladder. “We’re done.”
“I pride myself in good timing,” he said with a laugh.
Luke made his way down the ladder and once his feet were on the ground, Colin lowered the extension and picked it up to put away. Teamwork. The interesting part was that until this past year, these two brothers, eldest and second-born, were fiercely competitive and often battled. Now they were Mutt and Jeff. Frick and Frack. Ozzie and Harriet.
Luke looked at his watch. “Lunch,” he said.
“It’s ten-thirty!” Patrick said.
“I had breakfast five hours ago.”
“I had breakfast one hour ago,” Patrick said. “But I can watch you eat.”
“What have you been up to, kid?” Luke asked as he crossed the porch and went into the house.
Thirty-three years old, flown a hundred missions in war zones on at least ten deployments to sea and he was still the kid. The youngest. The one who should be taken care of. “Reading,” he said with a little attitude.
“Reading what?” Luke asked.
“You taking a survey?” Paddy returned.
Colin had leaned the ladder against the porch and was right behind them, following them into the house. “Sometimes if you just let him take your temperature, it satisfies him and he stops asking questions.”
“War and Peace,” Paddy said.
“My ass,” Luke shot back.
“Actually, I have been reading, but not War and Peace. I’m catching up on the DeMille books. That’s what we do at sea—read. Watch DVDs. We play video games and work out a lot. And fly. I haven’t had any significant downtime when the ground isn’t rolling under me in about ten years now.”
“How’s it working out for you?” Colin asked.
“All right, as a matter of fact. This was a good idea. For a few weeks, anyway.”
“Come to San Diego with us,” Colin invited for at least the tenth time.
Paddy shook his head. “I have commitments.”
“Yeah?” Luke asked. He opened the refrigerator. Though Colin lived in this big old Victorian with Jill, Luke apparently put himself in charge. He pulled out bread, lunch meat, cheese, lettuce, mayo, mustard, pickles and tomatoes. “What commitments?”
“I told you, but you never listen. I have to be back in Charleston right after Christmas and I promised to check on Marie on my way. I’m going to spend Christmas with her and little Daniel.”
“Is that carved in granite?” Colin asked, putting a couple of plates on the work island. “Because maybe you can wrangle a few more days out of the Navy, come with the family to San Diego…”
He shook his head. “I told her I’d be sure she was all right at Christmastime. It’s Jake’s wife,” he said.
“Widow. Did she ask you to come?” Colin wanted to know.
Patrick shook his head. “In fact, she said I didn’t have to. But I have to. You guys didn’t really know him—Jake. And you never knew him with Marie.” His shoulders lifted slightly in sentimental memory. “They were so crazy for each other, sometimes it got ridiculous.” He laughed. “They could finish each other’s sentences. When we got back to base after a deployment, they couldn’t be disturbed for days. While we were home, they had date night, alone, every week. I know a hundred couples that wouldn’t be as wounded by separation as Marie and Jake—they were like a blended person. She’s doing well right now, but it’s been brutal. So I’m going to see Marie. Besides, if it wasn’t for the crash, I’d be at sea over Christmas, anyway, and you’d never think twice about me missing it.”
“You seem a little better,” Colin observed.
“I said this was a good idea. I had to get the hell away from that boatyard. A little distance, you know? I remember when the smell of jet fuel got my heart pumping and all of a sudden…” He shook his head. “Probably just some PTSD.”
“Even after my Black Hawk went down, I was ready to climb right back into one,” Colin said.
“Yeah, because it was yours, not one of your boys. That changes everything. But I’m working through it.”
While Patrick talked, Luke spread out bread and dealt cold cuts and cheese onto the slices. He slathered them with mayo and mustard, then sliced a tomato. The tomato slices went on two of the four sandwiches, lettuce on all four.
“Mis
sed a couple,” Patrick told Luke.
“I don’t want tomato. That’s Colin’s—since his woman grows ’em, he has to eat ’em.”
Patrick couldn’t help it, he laughed. “You two,” he said. “For about forty years we couldn’t keep you two from fighting, day and night, and now look at you. Like two little old ladies taking care of each other. You’re totally mellowed. It’s the girls, that’s what it is.”
“Probably,” Colin said. “For me there were a lot of factors, but I’ll be the first to admit Jilly is the best of all those things. She just has this calming effect on me.”
“How much older are you than Jillian?” Patrick asked.
Colin shrugged. “Eight years or so, I guess. Luke’s the one who robbed the cradle.”
Luke took a huge bite of his sandwich, chewed, swallowed and said, “I’ve got almost fourteen years on Shelby, the crazy little witch. Young is good, trust me.”
Patrick leaned toward him. “Don’t you feel just a little bit like a dirty old man?”
Sound and movement stopped so suddenly, it was almost surreal. Only eyeballs shifted between Colin and Luke. Luke slowly put down his sandwich. “Shit,” he said. “You did it. You and the little one, Jack’s niece. You did the nasty.”
“What are you talking about?” Patrick said indignantly.
Colin put down his sandwich. “Yep. Not DeMille’s books relaxing you, Paddy. Something else altogether. Someone else. Aw, man. You had to go for the mayor’s niece?”
“Mayor?” he asked. Patrick stood up from his stool, yet Luke and Colin finally sat down on theirs. The older brothers looked a little weary. “There’s no mayor here!”
“Okay, the king, then. Jack’s pretty much running this town. Don’t tell him that, though. He seems oblivious,” Colin said. “What he’s not oblivious to is his niece. He’s been clear—he doesn’t want her mixed up with any Riordan hooligan.”
“It was consensual,” Paddy said before he realized how awkward that sounded. Obviously all the wonderful sex had killed off some of his brain cells. He certainly hadn’t engaged his mind before opening his mouth.
“There we go,” Luke said. “He did the teenager. Crap.”
“She’s twenty-three! She has two degrees! Two impossible science degrees—biology and chemistry! She’s been valedictorian of every school she’s been in! She’s extremely smart.”
“I know this,” Luke said. “Jack told me. In fact, he told me at the same time he pointed to you and Angie and said, ‘That can’t happen.’ So now what, genius?”
“Nothing happens, that’s what.” Paddy said. “We’re friends. We’re both stuck in a weird holding pattern in our lives right now. She knows all about my situation, about Jake, about the Navy. And I know about hers, about her accident, her indecision about continuing med school.”
Luke looked at Colin. Colin looked at Luke. “Think Jack is going to buy ‘weird holding pattern’?” Colin asked.
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Screw it!” Patrick said, storming toward the door. He whirled back toward his brothers suddenly. “This isn’t about Jack. It’s about us, me and Angie, sitting out rough waters in Virgin River. We’re adults. I might be a little more of an adult if you’re counting years but I bet I have a lower IQ, so that puts us pretty much even. So mind your own goddamn business, all right?” Then he stormed out the door and walked toward his Jeep.
“Hey!”
He turned around to see Colin standing on the porch. Colin, the king of badasses until his Black Hawk crash and Jilly.
“Lighten up, kid,” he said. “No one accused you of anything.”
“Really? Really? Because it sounded like you were pretty goddamn judgmental in there....”
“Nah, we were pretty Riordan,” Colin said. “Take it easy, Paddy.”
“I’m telling you, she’s a good person! She’s smart enough and mature enough to make a decision and I wouldn’t—”
“Hey, slow down, Paddy. Riordans have a lot of rough edges, missed a lot of training growing up, but there was never a Riordan man who didn’t take special care where women were concerned.” Then he grinned. “Even, you know, the kind of naughty ones…”
“She’s not naughty!” he nearly shouted.
Colin put up his hands. “Hey, I wasn’t talking about the little Sheridan niece, pal. My thoughts drifted more toward Luke’s taste for pole dancers.”
“He always said it was you who favored—”
“We treat women right,” Colin said, cutting off his younger brother. “We Riordans don’t have a lot of sterling qualities, but we’re good to women. And our friends. And, in tough times, to our brothers. Ready to settle down now?”
“She’s good people, Colin,” Patrick said. “I don’t want either of you saying one negative thing about Angie.”
“Patrick, man, no one would. But you have to tell her she’s been outted. You wouldn’t want word to get around to Jack and have her broadsided.”
“I’ll take care of her.”
“Of course you will. You probably don’t have to be told this, but she’s a little…tender.”
And with that, Patrick dropped his chin, looking down. He couldn’t help feeling the weight of that. God knew he didn’t want that to be the case—he wanted her to be as tough as she talked. That way he could leave her when he had to without feeling like a piece of shit.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Colin said. “You can’t always help who gets your attention. At least she’s over twenty-one.”
“Then why the reaction?” Patrick demanded.
“Because, kid—you have complications right now. ‘Commitments,’ as you call them. Just let me know if you need someone at your back.”
Patrick was quiet for a minute. “Thanks.”
“Want dinner here tonight? I’m cooking for my little farmer.”
“Sorry, I can’t.”
Colin studied him for a long moment. “Of course you can’t,” he finally said.
* * *
The Riordan men weren’t known for sensitivity, though they did stick together. In fact, they could be rolling in the dust fighting one minute and the next backing one another up. Patrick, being the youngest, had never had great conflict with any of them. It was Luke and Colin who fought the most. Then it was Luke and Sean. Then it was Sean and Colin. There were times it was Luke or Colin and Aiden. But no one could stay mad at Paddy.
He’d had about enough of being called kid, however.
So, the old boys—Luke and Colin—had mellowed out beyond anything Paddy had expected. He was convinced it was their women. Two of the scrappiest Riordans got two of the best women—Shelby and Jilly. Nothing wrong with Sean’s Franci or Aiden’s Erin, either, but the latter two women hadn’t had nearly as much challenge in taming their men.
Colin was right in what he said to Patrick—Angie was tender, even though she tried to appear worldly and brave. He should probably break things off before he added to her struggle with her family, with her uncle. They were going to part ways eventually, anyway. Probably better if it happened sooner than later. But he couldn’t even think about it. Patrick hadn’t had the kind of experience he’d shared with Angie with another woman in so long he couldn’t… Oh, hell, he was pretty sure he’d never had that kind of experience with a woman, and he was not without experience.
Once home, he got his stir-fry ready—chopped and marinated so that all that was left was to throw it in the pan. Then he settled in to call Marie.
“Hullo?” she said thickly.
Oh, please, he prayed. Let it be a cold.
“How are you today, Marie?”
She sniffed and snuffled. “Oh, Paddy,” she said, crying. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I let myself have a bad day—I think I lost my mind a little bi
t.”
“What happened, honey?”
“It was so crazy. My mom was watching Daniel so I could do a little Christmas shopping at the mall. It was crowded, it was festive, lots of lights and music and…I was feeling so good. I kept finding things I couldn’t resist—perfect presents. I went through a ton of stores and bought armloads of things and then… Oh, God, Paddy! I realized I’d bought presents for Jake!” And she melted into tears.
“It’s okay, Marie,” he said. “It’s okay....”
“Shirts and sweaters and pants and shoes. Electronic stuff he would love. All for Jake. Like I was going to go home, wrap it all up, put it under the tree and he’d—” He could hear the sobs across the phone line.
“You can take it all back,” he said, trying to reassure her, to comfort her.
“I don’t want to take it back! I want him to come home!”
“Aw, Marie…”
“Do you ever ask yourself if it’s true? If he’s really gone?”
He shook his head, although she couldn’t see him. This might be a good time to tell her Jake sometimes visited his dreams, joked around with him, poked fun at him. But then again, no…
“Unfortunately, I know he’s gone,” he said quietly. “But I think I’d rather forget that sometimes and buy him Christmas presents by accident.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“If I could have an hour of him being alive, I’d take it.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered.
“Ask your mom or sister to return those things, Marie. Or give them to charity and send me the bill. If it makes you feel better to look at them, touch them, fondle them for a while, then do that for a week or so. It’s Christmas—it’s hard. But it’ll pass.” He wiped at his eye.
“For a while it really felt like he was alive,” she said weakly. “What’s the matter with me?”
“Nothing,” he insisted. “Normal confusion—he was your soul mate. The loss is… It’s just hard, especially right now. You talk to anyone in your grief group?”
